


We'll Love What We Find

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 02:30:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11682171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: To Keith, everything about Lance was a mystery, but the biggest one by far was the one that everyone seemed to know but no one seemed willing to tell him.





	We'll Love What We Find

**Author's Note:**

> fuck

The first thing Keith noticed about Lance–besides the nagging sensation that he was somehow very, very familiar–was his apartment was full of shirts with Jerry Seinfeld’s face on it.

He considered asking why he had it, obviously, but he thought asking would somehow offend him, and he couldn't afford to offend someone he would now have to live with for at least another two years. Besides, each to their own. Keith was honestly more bothered by the fact that Lance apparently leaves laundry lying around everywhere than the Seinfeld thing. (Which isn’t to say he wasn’t a little bothered by the Seinfeld thing.) Keith usually wasn't particularly interested in other’s people’s personal business. Hell, he barely paid attention to other people at all.

Which probably explained why he knew he’d seen Lance somewhere, but couldn’t remember the context. And it’s strange–if there was one word to describe Lance, it would certainly be ‘memorable’. But any time he tried to recall where he had seen Lance, his brain only offered a hazy blur.

But even though Keith couldn’t exactly remember him, he knew for a fact that Lance did, because the minute Lance had looked at him he turned the same shade as Keith’s bright red jacket. However they knew each other, it was more than just a passing acquaintance.

All of this was, however, aside from the point, which was, as Keith tried to wrap his head around, an apartment full of shirts with Jerry Seinfeld’s face on it.

It wasn’t–it wasn’t that weird, right? Seinfeld was a popular show. Jerry Seinfeld was a popular actor. It wasn’t totally unreasonable that Lance might just be a passionate Seinfeld fan. A really, really passionate Seinfeld fan.

“So, uh,” Lance said, voice probably a fraction higher pitched than usual. “You don’t have to live here if you don’t want to.”

Lance’s voice snapped Keith out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “No, I don’t–I don’t mind the shirts. I mean, I, um, I like Seinfeld too.”

Lance looked at him like just confessed to being half alien. “You like Seinfeld?”

Keith blinked. That was not what he expected Lance to say. “Clearly not as much as you do. Why, is something wrong with that?”

Lance shook his head. “Nah, I guess I was just–surprised. And I haven’t watched Seinfeld by the way, I just–look, that’s not the point. I just thought you wouldn’t want to live here because…you know…”

Lance gestured towards Keith vaguely and raised his eyebrows, as if Keith was supposed to know exactly what he was talking about. Keith raked his memory again in a panic, trying to understand what Lance could possibly be talking about. All his years of ignoring other people, and Keith was only being punished for it now, at the worst possible moment. Finally, he sighed and just decided to tell the truth.

“Look, Lance, I’m sorry, I know we’ve probably met before, but I have no idea when or how or why it’s such a big deal. So I’m fine living here, unless you’re uncomfortable with it.”

Lance raised his eyebrows. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to be offended, just incredulous. “Really? You don’t remember a thing?”

Keith shook his head. “Sorry, nothing’s coming to me.”

“Interesting,” Lance said, staring at Keith like he was an abstract painting, unknowable and yet somehow simultaneously understood. Keith squirmed, realized he was squirming, and crossed his arms. How the hell did Lance of all people make him nervous?

“Well, in that case, welcome to your new home,” Lance announced, all traces of hesitation gone. “Coffee’s in the top cabinet, spare keys are under the mat, and Power Rangers popsicles are in the top rack of the freezer. Don’t pretend those aren’t cool, I know you want one.”

Keith shrugged. If Lance was just going to ignore whatever that was, then he would try to too. As Lance slipped back into his room to call his friends about some urgent business he just remembered, Keith opened the freezer door to get himself a Power Rangers popsicle. He supposed there would always be a mystery about Lance.

When he opened the freezer, the Power Rangers popsicles were in a cardboard box on the top rack, as he expected. What he didn’t expect to see was a frozen octopus and a jar full of frog eyes.

Okay, maybe two mysteries.

-

The longer Keith spent living with Lance, the less he understood about him. The mysteries kept building up: why Lance refused to use a microwave, why he had bags of cat food in his closet but no cat, why he sometimes climbed through the window to get into his own apartment. He wasn’t sure if Lance was eccentric or superstitious or raised in outer space, but whatever he was, he was unfathomable.

And not just for the mysteries surrounding him. Lance himself was a complete enigma. There was just something about him–the way he laughed or smirked or just the way he held himself–that eluded Keith. He couldn’t figure it out no matter how hard he tried, and he tried really hard. Lance was the ultimate mystery.

Okay, maybe that was a lie. The real mystery was how Keith let himself get so invested in someone else’s life. He wasn’t usually the kind of person who got so attached to anything, especially random person's personal business.

Then again, Lance was hardly some random person, at this point he was practically a cryptid. And Keith was definitely the kind of person that got invested in cryptids.

But some of the questions did get answered, even though a host new ones regrew in its place like a Hydra head. The frozen squid and the eyes got resolved the day he met Hunk and Pidge, Lance’s best friends and the two biggest nerds Keith had ever met. Well, maybe excepting himself.

“Oh, that,” Pidge said with a flick of her hand when Keith had cautiously asked. “Well, the octopus is Hunk’s. He’s a master chef, and he can bake a mean casserole, but his real passion is for strange culinary nightmare food. Stuff you’d see in a restaurant exclusively for eccentric rich people.”

“If you don’t want to eat the mean soup I’m going to make with that octopus you don’t have to,” Hunk retorted, setting down two mugs of tea on the coffee table.

Pidge responded with a look of mock betrayal and a slap on his shoulder. Hunk returned the attack, and in seconds, the two were laughing and fighting like children.

Keith smiled at their antics. Pidge and Hunk and Lance were close. With their easy dynamic and constant teasing and endless in-jokes, they almost seemed like they were siblings, or something. A family.

Keith’s smile faded and he cleared his throat. “So, uh, the frog eyes?"

Hunk and Pidge looked up from their mini war, still giggling.

“Oh, yeah, those are mine.” Pidge said, adjusting her glasses. "I’m doing an experiment about like, cryogenic technology, subzero biomedicine, you know.”

“That’s bullshit,” Lance said from behind Keith, making him jump in his seat and whip around to face him.

Keith frowned. It had been a long time since anyone had snuck up on him. Lance didn’t seem to notice his embarrassment and rested his arms on the back of Keith’s chair. 

“Come on, Lance, you didn’t even give us a chance to see if he’d buy it,” Pidge whined. “That was some of my most convincing pseudoscience babble."

“No fooling my roommate, we’re ride or die now,” Lance said, dismissing Pidge’s comment and leaning forward towards Keith as if he was about to tell him a secret. Instinctively, Keith leaned back. This time Lance seemed to notice, because he blushed slightly and removed his arms from Keith’s seat, moving over to sit next to Hunk on the couch.

“The truth is Pidge likes to dissect things for fun,” Lance announced as Pidge groaned and buried her face in her hands.

“Everyone thinks that’s weird. He’s gonna think I’m weird now, Lance,” Pidge grumbled from between her fingers.

“I don’t think you’re weird,” Keith offered, then hesitated. For some reason, even though they were talking to him, he felt like he was interrupting their conversation. He went on anyway. “I think dissection is kind of fascinating. Looking at the inside of things, the little organs and muscles that make us work, it’s pretty cool. Are you studying biology?”

“Nope, she does computer science,” Lance said cheerily. “And, before you ask, Hunk’s not majoring in Culinary Arts, he’s an engineer. My friends are just extremely talented at everything. They’re both basically geniuses. Or is it genii? I bet Hunk knows.”

Hunk laughed and rolled his eyes. “Lance, we’re not that smart. You don’t have to brag about us to every new person you meet.”

He paused. “Both are technically acceptable but carry different connotations.”

Lance beamed. His love for his friends was practically radiating off him. 

“So hey, Keith, now I’ve got a question for you,” Pidge said, propping her feet up on the coffee table. “You really don’t remember us at all?"

Hunk and Lance instantly winced. Pidge pretended not to notice, taking a sip of her tea. The atmosphere in the room was suddenly very, very uncomfortable.

“Dude.” Lance laughed nervously, voice slightly strangled. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I don’t know,” she continued. “I think at least some of us should have made more of an impression. I think we deserve a little more respect than that, considering how much we’ve–not forgotten him.”

“Yeah, well, we stopped caring a long time ago, so we’d like it if you could just drop it already,” Lance snapped. 

The room was silent, the comfortable affection between the friends clearly strained. Lance was openly glaring at Pidge, who was still looking at Keith and waiting for him to answer. Hunk darted his eyes back and forth between the three of them, wince still etched on his face. 

Keith wanted to say something, anything, but he was frozen in place. Keith wasn’t even good in normal social situations; he had no idea what to do in this awkward mess. He wasn’t sure if he should be mad at Pidge for putting them all in this situation or himself for apparently causing it.

Finally, Hunk took a deep breath and stood up. “I’m going to go down to the library to check out some cookbooks. Lance, Pidge, you want to come?”

Lance hesitated, then nodded and followed Hunk out the door, leaving Keith and Pidge alone together. Pidge took another swig of her tea. 

Keith cleared his throat. “Um, if you’re upset because I agreed to live with Lance despite whatever it is that I–"

“I’m not upset that you agreed to live with Lance,” Pidge interrupted as she stood up to leave, still remarkably casual. “I’m upset that he agreed to live with you.”

-

“Wait, so her name was Pidge?” Shiro asked.

“That’s seriously your first question about this whole situation?” Keith hissed into his phone.

It was three days after the whole debacle, and Keith was holed up in a cafe across the street from Lance’s–well, his and Lance’s–apartment, relaying the story to Shiro with rambling urgency. 

Keith had to admit going to a restaurant, no matter how close it was, just to make a phone call he was too embarrassed to make in his own apartment was pretty cowardly. But the thought of Lance strolling in and catching part of the conversation was unarguably a million times worse, so Keith decided that maybe a little cowardice was necessary. 

Luckily, the cafe, apparently named Quintessence, judging from the swirling gold letters on their menu, was the perfect place to share humiliating stories over the phone with a baffled brother. It was a typical hipster joint, complete with exposed brick walls and hanging light bulbs. The busiest time of the day had just ended, so there was just enough noise in the cafe to drown out his conservation but not so much that he couldn’t hear Shiro. Plus, the waitress, a girl about his age with blonde hair and a permanently bored expression, didn’t bother periodically checking on Keith after unceremoniously handing him a cup of coffee. He had more privacy in this place than he did in his own home. Still, just to soothe his paranoia, Keith chose a secluded table in the corner, faced away from other customers. 

“That is my first question, yes,” Shiro said, “considering I know Pidge already.”

Keith raised his eyebrows. “Really?"

“I’ve definitely mentioned her to you a few times before,” Shiro insisted. “Remember Matt? The guy working in the lab with me? Pidge is his sister.”

“I thought her name was Katie.”

“She goes by both.”

Keith frowned. “So…was that why she was mad at me? Because I didn’t know she was Matt’s sister?”

“Nah, that doesn’t make any sense. That wouldn’t explain Hunk and Lance.” Shiro hummed in thought. “I don’t know, maybe I can just ask Matt tomorrow, see if he knows anything.

“Speaking of Lance,” Shiro went on. “How’s living with him going?”

Keith paused. It had only been a week or so, but he still wasn’t sure he could describe it. 

“He’s…not easy to figure out,” Keith said slowly.

“How so?"

“I don’t know. Living with him is kind of like living inside a sitcom. And it’s not even the fact that he does weird, unexplainable stuff all the time, that’s actually the least of it. He’s got an inseparable friend group that’s always at his house, and whenever he’s around there’s something crazy and interesting happening. He’s just got all this stuff happening in his life, and I don’t even–“ Keith slumped back against his chair. "The fact that I still haven’t mentioned the dozens of Seinfeld shirts because it’s not even the weirdest thing about him sums it up pretty well.”

“That’s not exactly unfathomable,” Shiro noted. “He could just be a fan.”

“He hasn’t even watched it, Shiro!” Keith half-yelled.

“Who hasn’t watched what?”

Keith whipped around and swore under his breath. Lance was standing right behind him, wearing a black apron with a white X-shaped symbol across his chest and holding a tray of muffins.

Also, his hair was bright fuchsia and he had a snake tattooed on his forearm.

What the hell was Lance doing here? Also–what the hell, in general?

“Hey, bud?” Shiro’s voice crackled through Keith’s speakers. “You still there?”

Upon hearing his voice, Lance made a high-pitched noise and slid into the chair next to Keith, fixing his eyes on his phone like it had just transmuted into gold. 

Keith stared at him with a potent mixture of fear and confusion. Was Lance okay? Was something terrible going to happen? 

“Hey man,” Lance squeaked, “Is that–is that Takashi Shirogane?”

Oh. Keith smirked. Apparently Lance was part of Shiro’s small but passionate fan club. He had almost forgotten that his brother was half famous for being one of the most accomplished pilots of his generation. 

Honestly, Keith had always thought the rabid attention was a little ridiculous. He supposed after watching someone nervously approach a ball of lint with a broom because they thought it was a spider it would be pretty difficult to see how anyone could idolize them. He was tempted to tell Lance no for a second, just to see the look on his face when he learned he wasn’t going to meet the amazing Takashi Shirogane, but before he could decide whether he was willing to sink that low, Shiro answered for him. 

“Oh, is Lance with you right now?” he asked, as if he wasn’t acutely aware that Keith had ridden two miles to avoid him. “You should have told me, I would have greeted him a lot earlier. Hey, Lance, I see you’re a fan?”

“You’re–you’re–oh my God–“ Lance’s leg bounced up and down in excitement. 

Keith was glad that Shiro told him the truth; this was way funnier than his disappointment ever could have been. Also, Lance was kind of cute when he was this starstruck. Like a seven year old, or a golden retriever. 

Keith couldn’t help himself.

“Oh, didn’t you know?” He said as innocently as possible. “Shiro’s my brother.”

“Not by blood, but we’re basically as close to brothers as you can get,” Shiro clarified as Lance apparently started to hyperventilate. 

“Here, you can talk to him if you want. He usually makes up his mind about people based on the very first thing they say to him, so be cautious. Don’t blow it.” Keith handed his phone over to Lance, with the quiet panic of someone being asked to defuse a bomb. 

“Hi…Shiro. Takashi Shirogane.” Lance started. “Takashi Shirogane, who I’m currently speaking to. Takashi…Shirogane.”

“He hates people who can’t get to the point. Quick, say exactly what’s on your mind,” Keith whispered.

“I had a home made action figure of you when I was nine!” Lance blurted. Then he yelped in terror and hung up, almost throwing the phone back on the table.

Keith laughed so hard that he was in serious danger of actually falling off his chair. Five people at nearby booths stopped their conversations to look at him, doubled over and on the verge of tears.

“This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me,” Lance said, staring at the wall with a look of absolute horror. 

“You’re a nerd,” Keith said, almost breathless. “This whole time, you’ve secretly been a huge nerd. For my brother, no less!"

They were attracting attention now. Almost half the people in the cafe were staring at Keith, including a burly, scowling man wearing the same black apron as Lance. Upon hearing the commotion Keith was causing, he started approaching the table with a purposeful stride. Lance, catching a glimpse of the man coming out of the corner of his eye, instantly sobered up and pulled his phone and a pair of sunglasses out of his front pocket.

“Is there a problem here?” The man loomed over them with his arms crossed. Keith noticed, unlike Lance, he had a name tag on. “Sendak”, it read. 

“Sorry,” Keith answered, wiping his eyes. “It’s just, my friend Lance here is freaking out because–“

“Excuse me, his name is Lance?” Sendak snarled. 

Keith stopped smiling. He was pretty sure he had made a huge mistake.

But Lance, now wearing the sunglasses, just looked up from his phone with a sigh.

“Sorry, do I know you?” he drawled, leaning back in his chair with perfect apathy.

“Don’t play games, McClain, you know you’ve been banned from this restaurant,” Sendak growled, grabbing the front of Lance’s apron.

Keith stood up abruptly. “Hey, I don’t know who know think you are–“

“I’m the manager here!” he roared. “And this scoundrel egged our establishment on our opening night!"

“Whoa, whoa, dude, chill.” Lance sighed again and put away his phone. “My name is Lance Sanchez. Sanchez. I have like, four thousand followers on Instagram? Like, I have no idea who this other guy is but–Keith, grab the muffins!” 

Then he leapt out of his seat and bolted towards the exit, sending the restaurant into chaos. The volume in the room swelled as customers yelled in confusion and the employees, excepting the blonde girl who served Keith earlier, all rushed to apprehend Lance. People swarmed around Sendak, angrily asking questions as he attempted to navigate his way to the exit. On instinct, Keith took off after Lance, pushing through the crowd and knocking over a few chairs in the process. Sendak tried to run after them, but by the time he managed to force his way past the horde of people and fallen chairs, Keith and Lance had already hopped in Lance’s car and taken off.

“Okay, you have to tell me what the fuck that was,” Keith demanded as Lance turned out of the parking lot and Quintessence slowly faded from their view. “Not that it wasn’t completely awesome, to be honest, but I could really use some answers right now."

“Sendak is one of the Galra,” Lance explained as he made a sharp turn to the left. “They’re this group of rich assholes that close down businesses for bullshit reasons and put up their own businesses in their place.”

Keith frowned. “Sorry, I don’t see how you’re involved with this.”

“My friend Allura used to own a restaurant there called Altea, it was her family’s business. She loved it, and it basically became her home after her father passed away. Then out of the blue she get shut down for a health violation and Sendak comes in and opens his shitty hipster hub.”

Lance narrowed his eyes. “Well, it turned out Sendak had some friends on city council who just happened to have the power to pull some strings for him, get him a restaurant in the busiest part of town. Not to mention they used to be political rivals with Allura’s dad.”

Lance stopped and glanced at Keith. “I know this is kind of far-fetched, but you believe me, right?"

Keith was fairly certain Lance didn’t have any concrete evidence to back up his story, but he believed him instantly. All his nights spent obsessively watching conspiracy theory videos were practically preparing him for this moment. 

“Of course I believe you. I mean, if I didn’t, I’d probably still say I believed you and move on, but I do. One hundred percent."

Lance smiled so brightly that Keith thought even if he didn’t trust Lance at all he would have lied just to see the brightness that enveloped Lance’s face. He supposed that Lance probably had that effect on a lot of people, judging by how often he bragged about his “irresistible charms". Although, Keith hadn’t considered that there was any merit to his claim. 

Then again, considering his success rate with the people he flirted with, maybe there really wasn’t. Maybe Keith was the exception.

“So you’re basically a vigilante freedom fighter,” said Keith, determined not to follow that train of thought any further. He didn’t know exactly where it was going, but he had an idea that he wouldn’t like it.

Lance’s eyes widened. “Shit, I guess so. That sounds so much cooler than ‘part-time committer of petty theft’. I’m definitely calling myself that whenever I meet people at parties.”

“Lance McClain, paladin of justice and muffin pilfering.”

“Don’t forget irresistible charm, never forget irresistible charm,” Lance added. 

“How could I.” Keith rolled his eyes. Perhaps he wasn’t as susceptible to Lance’s charisma as he thought. “And the name? Galra?"

“Just a nickname that eventually stuck once they got a rep. They did this to Hunk’s girlfriend, too, she used to sell Eastern medicine type stuff before they closed her down.” Lance came to a stop at a traffic light and twiddled his fingers on the wheel. “Anyway, I egged the restaurant, and now I just sort of go back regularly to mess with them. Steal their food, break their coffee machines, et cetera. Most of the waiters there don’t even acknowledge you if you’re also wearing one of their uniforms, and Nyma stole one for me a while back. Though I still have to disguise myself a little bit.”

Keith smiled. Whether it was Lance's personality or bad decision making or the whims of fate, adventure gravitated towards him like the ocean to the moon. But had been a while since his anything interesting had happened to Keith. For someone who once dropped out of school (or got kicked out, reports vary), his life generally didn’t rise above trudging monotony. Even though he moved around for most of his life, no matter where he was, usually his days were spent alone, reading books or studying maps or working on his–

“Shit!” Keith shouted, putting his face in his hands. “Shit shit shit shit shit. I forgot my bike back there. It’s still in outside parking lot the cafe.”

“Crap.” Lance grimaced and brought the car to a screeching stop. He started pulling over to the side of the road, but Keith had already leapt out of the car and started pacing.

“I’m going to go back there,” Keith told Lance as he turned back towards the direction they had come.

“Wait, dude, don’t–“ Lance grabbed Keith’s arm and pulled him back so that they were facing each other. 

Keith turned red, but before he could yank his arm back, Lance abruptly let go and put his hands in his pockets.

“They’ll catch you if you go back,” Lance said. “It’s too risky. Look, I can think of a safer idea, I’ll just–”

Keith didn’t bother answering and started walking back towards the cafe.

-

If Lance’s life was a sitcom, Keith’s was all the stuff that happened in between, the stuff that happened after the cameras were off. After the grand escape, the protagonists were supposed to run and never look back, not slink back ten minutes later because they forgot something. 

For most of his life, Keith didn’t really interact with other kids his age. He didn’t make friends very easily, and he never saw the need to get better at it. He was fine being by himself, even content that way. Besides, his life never stayed one way for long. Sometimes he had foster parents, sometimes he was on his own; sometimes he attended school, sometimes he spent his days in a shack in the desert. It was hard to make connections with people who could be dust to him by tomorrow. Shiro was the only person close to his age who’d he’d ever been close with, when he started attending and living at the Garrison. As such, he wasn’t particularly surprised that he couldn’t remember Lance: most everyone in his life blurred together in murky sea of indifference.

But even though Keith wasn’t interested in being a typical teenager, he still wondered about it sometimes. Would he have been happier if he had had a normal childhood? Two parents, a group of friends, the knowledge that he would be okay in the morning? 

And sure, he knew that sitcoms were fake. But that didn’t mean he knew what real was. He didn’t know how kids were really supposed to spend the precious youth that adults seemed ready to die for. So he couldn’t help but ask himself: was Lance’s life extraordinary, or was his less than ordinary? Was he missing out?

Eventually, as Quintessence came back into view, he decided he had more pressing and immediate matters to focus on–specifically, how he was supposed to get close without anyone noticing him. The whole front of the restaurant was made out of glass, which made it harder to sneak up to his bike without anyone seeing him, but it also meant Keith could easily watch the scene inside like it was some kind of experimental theater.

Quintessence was nearly empty at this point, though Keith couldn’t tell if it was because it was well after the lunch rush hour or because Sendak cleared everyone out. He was barking orders and insults at his staff so loudly that Keith could hear it from two stores away. The waiters–excepting the girl that had served Keith earlier, he noticed–continued their work as usual, annoyed or bored at best by Sendak’s furious rant. Keith guessed that they were used to his temper by now.

For a moment, he was so absorbed in the spectacle in the cafe that he didn’t notice his motorcycle wasn’t actually in the parking lot anymore. When he finally tore his eyes away from events inside, he scanned the lot four times, growing more and more panicked by the second, but he didn’t catch sight of it at all.

Keith’s mind started cycling through the possible scenarios, but he only got to “run over then thrown in the back of a garbage truck, possibly planned by the US–no, the Chinese–government” before he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned around to see the waitress from earlier, gripping his bike by the handlebars and holding his helmet under her arm.

“Hey, Nyma to the rescue, as always,” she chirped in a way that was somehow both cheerful and disdainful and the same time. “Heard you were looking for this.”

Keith sighed with relief and accepted his bike back from her the way a parent might hug a long lost child. 

“Jesus, get a room,” Nyma said, rolling her eyes. “Although, I have to say, this is the only small favor Lance has ever asked of me that was actually small.”

Keith looked up. “He told you to get it?”

“Yeah. Called me and said you were coming back here, like an idiot. Asked me to get your bike and give it to you somewhere a little further from Sendak’s piercing gaze of doom.”

Keith felt his cheeks flush. “That–that was really smart of him.”

She grinned. “Nah. It’s just that any plan looks good when you recklessly rush into things like you have a death wish. You haven’t changed at all, have you?"

Keith scrunched up his face in confusion. Seriously, did every person Keith had ever met live on one block? Was some higher power punishing him for his antisocial personality? Was there a cult involved somehow? There was usually a cult involved somehow.

“Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to remember me. But I never forget a face from the one of my ragers, Keith Kogane.”

“One of your–I don’t go to parties.”

“Oh, babe, you definitely went to mine,” Nyma smirked. “Unless your twin brother Kevin was the one that beat then reigning champion Rolo in a drinking contest and threw up in my trash can.”

Keith groaned. Okay, maybe he did go to that party.

He wasn’t actually sure why he went, exactly. It was just that things at the Garrison were getting shakier than ever, and he sensed something bad was going to happen soon, and that he only had one last chance to engage in the obligatory teenage coming-of-age that was a party. Besides, it seemed like a fitting conclusion to that part of his life, an appropriate last-day-on-Earth type experience: he wanted to leave the Garrison with a bang, not a whimper. Now, most of it is a blur, although Keith can’t tell if that meant it was a really good party or a really shitty one.

And Keith was right. Two days later, the assholes running the Garrison kicked him out, and he never went back again. 

Keith’s life changed a lot, but being expelled from the Garrison was different. He had been there for three years, a lot longer than he’d ever stayed at any school. Plus, the Garrison was where he’d met Shiro, and even though Shiro eventually left to go to college, the Garrison still seemed special, just because it was the place where Keith had made his only real connection to anyone. Of course, once Keith found out about all the shit the Garrison was doing, he wouldn’t have gone back there for a million Shiros, but–well. It still kind of sucked.

“I thought you seemed like kind of an awkward loser, you know. Clinging to the wall and looking at a can of beer like you didn’t know what alcohol was.” Nyma tilted her head slightly as she recalled the night. “Don’t worry, everyone else thought you were dark and mysterious or some shit, totally in love with you.” 

“I wasn’t worried,” Keith responded almost automatically. “Seriously, though? In love?"

“Well, in something with you.” Nyma grinned. “What, you really didn’t know other people were saying about you?"

Before Keith could feel appropriately embarrassed and answer that he really, in fact, had no idea, Nyma kept talking. 

“I guess they don’t matter anymore, anyway, considering you’re no longer available. Man, what I wouldn’t give to see the looks on their faces if they knew you–“

“Wait, what do you mean I’m no longer available?” 

Nyma frowned. “You know? You and Lance."

“Um.” Keith turned bright red. An indescribable feeling settled in his stomach. “No. We’re just roommates.”

Nyma raised her eyebrows. “Really? Because based on the way you two were looking at each other earlier I thought–“

“Nope,” Keith said, a little louder than he expected. “I’m not even totally sure we’re friends. We’re roommates. Just roommates.”

For the first time since they had started talking, Nyma’s unaffected demeanor was replaced by an expression of borderline motherly concern.

“After all this time, you’re still not even friends?” Nyma said.

Keith rocked back and forth on his heels. “Well, I’ve only been living with him for a week now.”

Nyma sighed and tossed him his helmet, which he just barely caught. “I’ve kept you long enough, sweetheart. Tell Lance he owes me a drink for this shit.”

**Author's Note:**

> fuck (part 2)


End file.
